


Ping!

by Vakarian



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Mild Sexual Content, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 10:07:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4742369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vakarian/pseuds/Vakarian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A woman's work is never done, especially when it comes to saving the galaxy. Commander Shepard is busy with paperwork, but someone keeps blowing up her message terminal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ping!

A late night up filling out reports and forwarding them to Admiral Hackett isn’t exactly how she had planned to spend her evening, but it appears her work doesn’t permit much sleep. Her omnitool keeps pinging, telling her she has unread messages at her personal terminal. She really needs to get this batch done though before tomorrow, the hounding Anderson gave her earlier in the week replaying in her mind in an exhausting mantra. Lectures aren’t really her thing. Another message and another, and gradually the constant alerts are giving her one hell of a headache. She’s tapping the keys more furiously than before, just trying to get finished with this one- last- fucking-

She caves, opens the message inbox. Scrolling through, her mouth slackens incredulously, eyes barely reading the contents. They’re all from a certain turian who seems to be bored out of his mind down in the main battery. In-fucking-credible. Though every cell in her brain screams at her to be irrefutably angry, there is the twitch of a smirk on her lips. Garrus is, if nothing else, remarkably determined. A visible sigh flows through her and with it any urge to finish paperwork.

Shepard closes out the program with her unfinished reports, and, instead of returning any pings, decides to call the seemingly desperate alien over the comm system. She makes sure the channel is explicitly private, and then, she says, “You know, if you’re going to go through all that trouble, wouldn’t it have been better to just come knock?”

An answering gruff of a laugh, “I didn’t want to disturb you, _Commander_.” Funny, the subharmonics in his voice always flare interestingly over comm. They never do her any favors.

She leans back in her chair slightly, inching her boots off with just her feet. She can’t help but smile the entire time, despite the initial headache-inducing fiasco. “Consider me completely disturbed.”

He hums over the channel in response, a deep and rich sound. She closes her eyes and basks in it, briefly imagining the sound resonating against her, what that feels like. Garrus is always doing some kind of growl or purr at any given time when they’re together. It never ceases to reverberate in all the right places. Shepard clenches her teeth stubbornly, had this been the ploy all along? To get her to unwind? And then, “Shepard?”

“Hm?”

“I asked if I, honestly, was interrupting anything, and that I would just as honestly leave you to it, if need be. I understand completely if-”

“Garrus, it’s alright, really.” Now she leans forward and rests her elbow on the desk, her face against her hand. Smirk. “I think it’s cute how desperately you pine for my undivided attention.”

The turian equivalent of a scoff reaches her ears (and it makes her smile more), and he replies quickly, “I’m not sure if ‘cute’ defines me in any respect, Shepard.” That makes her, for lack of a better word, giggle. “But, ‘am always seeking your undivided attention nonetheless.”

Oh, that makes her feel good. She feels her chest swell, and, _God_ , does she love just listening to him talk. She idly runs her finger over her bottom lip, tickling the sensitive skin there, inspiring further the kind of mood Vakarian tended to put her in. “Well, what’s the plan now that you have it?” She practically purrs it, unable to resist the teasing note.

“Mm, wanted to take your mind off saving the universe, mostly.” Ah, Garrus, always and faithfully looking out for her well-being. “You keep wearing yourself down, and I’m not sure I’ll have the entirety of my commanding officer afterward. And I,” a slightly appreciative(?) resemblance of a growl, “distinctly prefer her in her entirety.”

Shepard hums in turn, a deep ‘mmm’ that she hopes makes him shift a little. Actually, the sound of his voice has her shifting in her own seat, coincidentally. A comfortable flush creeps over her neck slowly, and her grin is lingering and inviting (it’s too bad he can’t see). Returning to a more reclined position in her chair, legs spread slightly, she licks her lips and, “Garrus?”

“Yeah, Shep?”

“Can you just- keep talking?”

The other end of the comm is silent for a few moments, and then another chuckle. She swears he drops an octave almost automatically, subvocals framing his voice so wonderfully, “Oh? What should I, talk, about, Commander?” Garrus drawls in return, and she can definitely hear the smirk there.

“Anything.” She answers without missing a beat, as if instinctually. Her face heats up at the desperate-sounding tone. Hey, wasn’t it him that’s being desperate? Fuck it though, “Everything? Just, it’s… relaxing, hearing you go on.” Shepard almost wants to bury her face in her hand for that one. Relaxing, really? Nice cover.

“You know,” is he crossing his arms in that fucking smug way now? Because she swears she can hear him do it. “If I didn’t know better I would venture there is something in particular you want me to talk about.”

Devastatingly, her blush renews. “Uh,” the stammer really doesn’t help, and suddenly her pants are too hot to want to stay in, “what would you say then, that I want you to talk about?” A good counter, good feigning innocence.

A rolling purr answers her first, and she twitches, parting her lips to release a quick and, hopefully, silent breath. “Something that I’d _love_ to talk about.” She catches what sounds like his mandibles clicking against his cheeks in a matter-of-fact fashion. When turians are smug, my God, they are painfully, obviously smug. His voice is impossibly low as he teases on, “is it getting hot in there, Shepard?”

She shifts again, noticeably flustered. Her fingers itch against the armrests and her thighs tighten together to hopefully quell some desire. “A little, maybe the temperature regulator is off or something.”

“Perhaps you’d like me to come calibrate it for you?” A fucking cheesy one-liner, really? “Maybe… maybe then I could make sure all systems are running at optimal conditions.” He really punctuates the words he wants to hit hard. Garrus is no stranger to what his voice does to her, and just how the call has progressed, he has no trouble displaying his abilities as a quick study.

“You have a habit of,” she swallows once, closing her eyes briefly, “overheating them.” She bites her lip, almost ashamed she's playing along. This is really ridiculous, completely ridiculous. She just wants to break and tell him to get his bony ass up to her cabin, but somehow this.. this is really doing it for her. Shepard despairs in her mind, unimpressed with her own weakness to the other’s er, vocal talents.

Garrus rewards her with a throaty laugh, one that makes her press her thighs together and grit her teeth in pure frustration. _Completely ridiculous,_ she repeats in her mind. He clicks over the comm in consideration before saying, “I always make sure they come back down to the ground, don’t I?” Oh, yes, he does. “And I definitely I’m right there helping systems,” stops to chuckle, “ride it out.”

“Garrus.” She warns sharply but not with much conviction, what use is it now? It is extremely unfair to have this one-sided embarrassing onslaught, but she just can’t seem to bring herself to quip much in return. There’s that part of her that is always willing to surrender to him.

“Commander.” He answers more breathy than before, she notes. Well, at least he’s doing a good job at getting them both riled. And then, without warning, “Where are your hands?”

Blinking, Shepard subconsciously grips at the arms of her chair. Murmurs, “Huh?” Her face flushes at the insinuation. What a fucking bastard.

“Your hands.” He almost demands this time, and then ventures, “You should- wh, _what the_ -?” Something cuts him off.

She’s shook from her warm stupor of arousal by the jarring sound of his voice changing tone. “Garrus?” The commander questions, muddled anxiousness settling in her gut. And then, she can hear someone else’s voice distantly there. Uh oh, company, poor timing.

“For the last time, Traynor, can you knock or something? Spirits, you have got to ask permission before coming in someone’s room!” His subharmonics flare wildly.

Shepard, amusedly, wonders if its in embarrassment. What, did he have his pants halfway down his thighs or something? And… despite the interruption that thought awkwardly enough continues where Vakarian left off.

“Mmm, you know, you could have locked the door. And,” she adds helpfully, though she can hear him growling in his chest, “the Main Battery isn’t really ‘your room’.”

“I… no, I’m not- look, even if I was doing something important you can’t BARGE in like this,” He’s shouting now, and then the comm line disconnects completely.

Shepard snickers, bemused, laying her neck back in the chair and sighing. _Cockblocked yet again, Vakarian_ , she wants to say to him. Though, as funny as it is, she certainly has a bit of a problem now, and there is no way she is going back to filling out reports after all that build up. She smiles, though not without a hint of malice. Later, he would pay for this, and dearly.


End file.
